


Take Me, I'm Yours

by ceria



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fisting, M/M, Multi, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the prompt: 'Before Marcus became Nick Fury, he was tortured and the scars around his eyepatch are nothing compared to the ones found on his body. He became horribly self-conscious. The only person who gets to see under Nick's armor is Phil, his oldest friend.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More of the prompt: The only time that Nick is ever close to being intimate with someone is when Phil takes them to bed and Nick watches. This is eventually Clint/Coulson/Fury. It's an old prompt and an old fill, so it's not AoS or AoU compliant. 
> 
> Warning - liberal use of 'Marcus' instead of 'Nick' and vice versa. 
> 
> The second chapter is a different fill about fisting that's set in this 'verse with these three.

"You should ask him out."

Fury is standing behind Phil, arms crossed over his chest and close enough that they're brushing Phil's back. He leans into it and Nick snorts, the burst of air tickling his neck.

"At the rate he's burning through Agents, I'm going to end up his handler. That's an abuse of power."

"Really?" Nick drawls and Phil, barely, cringes at that. "So explain us."

"Old news and you know it, Marcus."

"I've got three more people I want to try with Barton first," Nick tells him, which is Phil's free pass to fuck the damn sniper and get it out of his system before he officially is made Barton's handler. Nick waits but Phil is more patient than his partner and ignores the comment. He laughs again and there's a light touch on Phil's hip, then Fury is using just one finger to untuck his shirt and press fingertip to skin. "How about I put it this way, old friend, I'm not fucking you until _after_ you tell me what it feels like to bury yourself balls deep in Barton. Are we clear?"

"Damn it," Phil mumbles but Nick only laughs and leaves the observation room. Phil's alone and Barton's review is over but he doesn't leave – just continues to watch Barton drill through another instructor. If he shifts in place once too often, uncomfortable with Nick's blessing and his own desire to have Barton, well, no one is watching.

~ * ~

"Your place or mine?" Clint asks, unrepentant about the line. They're leaving the restaurant just before close and it's dark and they're practically alone on the street and Clint is walking backwards, one hand on Phil's hip, one finger barely touching his lips.

"Yours," Phil responds and Clint slides the finger between his lips. Phil sucks it in and Clint groans. 

"Tell me you what you want," Clint whispers.

"I want to fuck you, if you'll let me."

"Thank God," Clint says, his expression changing to joy. 

 

Clothes end up strewn across the floor and the kitchen counter is closer than the bed. "It squeaks," Clint says by way of explanation and then he's handing Phil lube and a condom and bracing his hands against the tan countertop. Phil buries himself inside Clint slowly, ignoring Barton's whimpers and wiggling and demands for it harder and faster. 

Phil, if he could speak, would tell Clint that he likes it slow so he can remember it better. That Marcus likes the details but he's not mentioned Marcus yet, or the explanation he usually gives his one-night stands. 

Phil wants Clint to himself tonight.

He doesn't leave afterwards; they end up in the shower and then on the sofa for trashy television and then round two and Clint convinces him to sleep with him in the bed afterwards. It does squeak as they shift to accommodate each other, but Phil gets comfortable on his back quick enough and Clint drapes himself across him. They're both too tired to talk tonight.

Clint wakes to Phil texting Marcus that he's still there and everything is fine and to remember to feed Matilda.

"Tell me you didn't name your cat Matilda."

"Fish actually," Phil says with a grin.

"You really have a fish or is that code that you're stuck in the arms of your one-night stand and to come rescue you?"

"We really have a fish and yes, it's a code that I'm safe. His real name is Oliver."

"So who is Marcus and why doesn't he mind you fucking other people?"

This could go so bad and it usually does. Phil only ends up having sex with less than half of the men he picks up. Clint truly doesn't know how rare it is for him to not involve his partner in a one-night stand. And by rare, he means _never_ but Phil isn't going to tell Clint that secret. 

"We have an arrangement," Phil says. "I live with my partner and I love him, but he had an accident years ago and doesn't like physical intimacy."

"As in never?"

"As in rarely, usually only when things are bad for one of us."

"So you pick up strangers, except I'm not a stranger. Does he know we work together?"

"Yes," Phil admits. "It was his suggestion."

"Why Coulson," Clint drawls and Phil, once again, wonders why he's always attracted to arrogant, insufferable men. "Did you tell him about me?"

"He figured it out, yes."

"So," Clint crawls on top of Phil, both of them ignoring the squeaking bed, and pushes his morning wood into Phil's stomach. "Are you going to tell him about the kitchen, and then the sofa?" Clint reaches behind himself to wrap one hand around Phil's cock. "And this morning?" They open another condom and wrap it around Phil.

"Yes," Phil gasps as Clint sinks onto him. 

Someone bangs on the wall but Clint just laughs and yells, "You wish you were getting lucky this morning, freak."

The banging stops but Clint doesn't. Jesus, Phil hasn't had this much sex in the last ten months. Then it's another shower and breakfast and Phil is getting dressed. "So tell me what you usually do."

He hesitates at the door, almost ready to open it. "I usually take him back to my place and we have sex in my bed."

"And where's Marcus during this?"

Phil turns around to look at Clint, just to catch his expression. "Sitting in the chair in the corner of my room. Watching."

"Huh," Clint says but his expression gives nothing away and Phil leaves, a little unsettled.

~ * ~

"If I'm going to become his handler, then I want more leeway with his missions." 

Phil's sitting next to Fury because he always joins these meetings. Hill runs logistics but Phil's in charge of the assets. Especially ones like Barton whom they don't want to lose. 

"What do you have in mind, Agent Sitwell?"

"He's smart and doesn't need a babysitter. I want to give him free clearance to pick his own nests and more ability to lead part of the missions. Barton isn't only a sniper and I think you both realize that."

"Agreed," Fury says and the three of them sign the forms. Sitwell takes them to Barton to explain it and they're alone in the room.

"What?" Phil asks, watching Nick.

"You're pining," Nick tells him, blunt as ever. "Invite him over if you want, now that you're not going to be his handler."

"We've never done this with someone from work, Nick. It could get awkward."

"You already slept with him, Phil, and you two still are comfortable around each other. Either you invite him, or I do."

"He doesn't know you're Marcus," Phil says and Fury only laughs. In all honesty, Clint might be shocked for a moment but he'll get over the surprise. Ever since Phil spent the night with him, Nick had been taking time to befriend Clint. The two bastards are becoming thick as thieves lately. 

And Nick is correct, Phil wants more.

~ * ~

"So, you have plans for dinner, Barton?"

Clint is surprised but hides it well enough. He grins up at Fury and winks at him. "Why Director, are you asking me on a date? This place sure is incestuous." Because he has _no_ doubt that Fury knows he had sex with Coulson.

"I'm not going to be your date, Barton. My partner is." 

And it takes Clint a second longer than it should before he glances at the scars on Fury's face and then _knows_. He stands up and holds out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Marcus."

"Likewise," Fury says without shaking his hand. "Next Friday night enough time to let you think about the arrangement?"

"Yes, sir."

 

Tuesday afternoon Clint catches Coulson alone. "Tell me I'm not going to get a shovel talk, or have to perform at gunpoint." 

"It's going to be dark where he's sitting," Coulson says. "You'll hear him because you don't miss much, but he only wants to watch."

"Will I get an explanation as to why it's Marcus?" 

"Maybe," Phil hedges, because Nick doesn't tell most people about his past and he definitely wouldn't tell a one-night stand but Phil is starting to suspect that Clint is more than that; and not because this will be their second time. There's something addicting about Clint and both Nick and Phil are being drawn in. "Come to dinner and if it's too weird, you can always leave."

"Deal," Clint says, and looks around before tugging on Phil's tie, bringing them together for a brief kiss.

~ * ~

"Jesus," Clint mumbles. The wine's made all three of them loose and Clint's standing at the foot of the bed, Phil already naked and on his back. "What do you want, Nick?" he asks without looking at the dark corner. "Do you want me to fuck him, or do you want him to fuck me?"

It didn't take long for Clint to adapt to the idea of being watched. He's a sniper and the world's greatest marksman and very few people ever get to admire his career and know what Hawkeye looks like. So what if he's grandstanding a little under the attention of Director Fury. Usually the men Phil brings home prefer to pretend that Marcus isn't present. The idea of including him is warming Phil's heart.

Still, Phil is shocked when Marcus says, "I want to see you make him come undone, Barton. Can you do that?"

"Fuck, yes." And Clint can't speak after that because he's swallowing all of Phil. He arches off the bed as warm fingers fondle his balls and then Clint is searching for the lube and teasing Phil's perineum. He's sweating and his thighs are quivering by the time Clint sinks two fingers inside. Phil whimpers at the touch and he's grasping the sheets, pulling them loose from the bed. 

"More," he mumbles and can hear Marcus snicker. Then Clint sucks tight and bobs faster and pushes another finger inside and Phil is moaning. He grabs Clint's hair to pull him off but Clint hums instead and Phil's coming in his mouth. "Oh god," he cries.

"On your knees," Clint says and Phil obeys, all his limbs trembling. "Stay this way," Clint says as he tears the packet open and adds more lube. 

Phil can't speak, can barely stay on his hands and knees as Clint pushes in. His fingers will leave bruises tomorrow but Phil doesn't care. They're turned just enough so Marcus can watch in the corner, can see the slip and slide of Clint's dick in and out of Phil.

"Look at me," Marcus whispers and Phil turns his head to let him see his expression. He's sensitive from the orgasm and Clint is making good on his promise to unravel Phil. At this point, Phil isn't sure what turns him on more – Clint buried balls deep inside of him, or the sound of Marcus jacking off and breathing erratically.

"If you'd let me," Clint says into the almost-silent room, "I'd come over there and swallow you down. I'd eat your come with Phil's." Then he and Marcus are both groaning and Phil collapses on the bed as soon as Clint pulls out. 

Marcus' pants are done up when he comes to the bed and offers his wet fingers to Phil. He sucks them in, relishing in the bitter taste he never gets enough of. "I love you," Phil whispers and Marcus caresses his face. 

"You too. Barton, stay and get some sleep. I'll make breakfast in the morning."

~ * ~

"Phil, come here," Marcus whispers four weekends later and Phil doesn't hesitate to climb off his bed and settle on the ground between Marcus' legs. He takes the tip between his lips and swallows all of it. Clint is silent on the bed but as soon as Phil is done and back, Clint's yanking him into a dirty kiss, licking the remaining come out of Phil's mouth.

"Christ," Marcus mutters as he watches. Then he's tucking himself away once again and carding fingers through Phil's hair before he leaves the bedroom. "Love you," he says. "See you two for breakfast."

 

Clint's drunker than Phil's ever seen him three weeks later. They'd gone out to dinner, all three of them because Marcus insisted on it even though it's _their_ fifteenth anniversary and Clint had tried to beg out of it. "I'll be in the way," he said but Marcus only shook his head and didn't bother to explain his rationale. 

Phil is changing into pajamas – Clint's too drunk for sex – when Marcus comes into his bedroom.

"Hi," Phil says and watches Marcus shift from one foot to the other. "Everything okay?" Then his partner of fifteen years is crossing the room and pulling Phil into his arms and kissing him – _voluntarily_. 

"Oh," Phil hears from the doorway and Clint is stumbling away, giving them privacy. Marcus chuckles and goes after him. Phil can't move, too shocked from the kiss. "I'm not that drunk!" he hears and then Marcus is dragging Clint into the bedroom, willingly touching him. He deposits Clint on the far side of the bed where he normally sleeps and turns off the lights. Phil still doesn't move. 

In the darkness, Phil can hear clothes being shed. "Come here, Cheese." The pajamas hit the ground and Phil climbs onto Marcus' lap, holding himself up while Marcus preps him. Clint is snuffling on the bed, mostly asleep, and Phil can't decide if he's glad for it, or sad that he won't see this happen.

Phil keeps his hands on the back of the chair, wrists barely brushing Marcus' shoulders as they gently make love. It's enough – it is, but Phil doesn't complain when Marcus touches him, running fingers up and down his back, and then even kisses him again.

"Happy anniversary," Phil whispers, incredibly happy.

~ * ~

"Did I imagine that?" Clint asks in the morning. "He's not going to kill me for touching him, is he? I don't want to wake up tomorrow buried six feet under."

Phil's laughing but Clint still looks nervous. "What?" he asks.

"I didn't want to ruin your anniversary," Clint admits and Phil rolls his eyes. 

"It wouldn’t have been an anniversary if you weren't around," he says, and drags Clint into the shower with him. It's the first time they're intimate in any way without Marcus in the room in three months.

 

Clint is laughing and turns around to get into the refrigerator when he bumps into Marcus. "I'm sorry," he says but Marcus only shrugs and continues to scurry around making breakfast like it's no big deal that Clint touched him. 

Phil begins to hope for the first time in a long time.

~ * ~

"Kill me, please?" Phil whines and the bastard only laughs at him. Then the door bursts open and Clint jumps up.

"Thank fucking god. Tell me you got him medicine." They joke and snark and act like Phil's not _dying_ from the flu. Then he falls into blessed sleep and doesn't become aware of his surrounding for another three days.

 

"You two have spoiled me," Clint complains but Phil doesn't really care. He's still tired from being sick and Clint can take care of his boner himself. At least he finally got a shower and his teeth brushed – he feels almost human tonight. "It feels weird to do this alone, you know."

"Will this help?" Marcus asks from the doorway and enters the room to sit in the chair. Phil puts a hand on Clint's thigh but he doesn't have energy for much else. He slides his fingers between Clint's legs and fondles his balls and Clint sighs, happy. 

"You could get over here and take your boy's place, you know," Clint says. "He's too sick for this." He doesn't look at Phil as he stretches back, spreading his legs as he jacks himself. "Did Phil tell you about our first time? Against the kitchen counter?"

"Yes," Marcus answers, voice hesitant.

"We could try that, you know. I can lean over right here and you can finger me."

A long silence, then Marcus sighs and motions for Clint to get up. He doesn't hesitate at all, putting his hands on the edge of the mattress with his legs spread, back to Marcus. Phil moves closer, leaning his torso against Clint's wrists to help keep him steady – and to watch. Then Clint's gasping and moaning as Marcus pushes fingers inside him and reaches around. Phil watches Marcus grab Clint's dick and pump. 

"Fuck yes," Clint says and Phil pushes himself up to kiss him.

"If Phil wasn't sick," Marcus says, fingers buried in Clint's ass as he pushes his hard cock against it, "then we could split you between us. Would you like that, Barton, Phil's dick in your mouth, mine in your ass?"

"Yes," Clint whimpers and Phil wishes he felt better.

"Promise me," Phil says, voice harsh and barely able to be heard, "promise me we can do that someday soon."

Marcus just nods and twists his hand inside Clint. "I promise."

~ * ~

"She's a bitch," Clint seethes and Phil rests one hand on his shoulder. It's not restraint and it's more to ground himself than Clint.

"I agree," he says, watching Agent Hill walk away from Director Fury's office. "We won't let her get away with it."

"Not sure I can help with that," Clint admits and Phil just waits for him to think it through. "Or I could convince Nat to bug her private phone. That could buy us some insight."

"She's your best friend," Phil says and Fury yanks the door open.

"Stop lollygagging in the hallway like teenaged girls and get in here," he snarls. He's closing up the files about the Initiative with controlled movements.

"She doesn't believe like you do, sir," Clint says. "I doubt anything we say will make her change her mind."

"Just wait until the first alien invasion," Fury replies and Phil rolls his eyes.

"That's not even funny, Nick. Don't joke about such things." They discuss work for the rest of the morning and it's during lunch that Clint, slightly hesitant, brings up dinner tomorrow night.

"It's number one," Nick says and even Phil is surprised by that. 

"I'm sorry?" Because it's closer to their sixteenth and he's not exactly sure what Nick is thinking.

"It's our first anniversary this weekend," Nick says without a trace of discomfort, nodding at both of them. "I don't think you mind starting the count over, do you, Phil?" Neither of them have to look at Clint to know he's relaxing and no longer nervous. 

"Not at all, sir."


	2. Chapter 2

He hasn't felt himself for months, even after Phil's back from the dead and Nick wasn't walking around like he's carrying too many secrets. The good thing is that he's officially living there fulltime now, Nick's suggestion, instead of mostly staying over and keeping a separate apartment. The bad thing is that he slept alone in Phil's bed; when he was _able_ to sleep. The compromise had been dragging the blankets from Phil's bed into Nick's room after they attempt to each sleep alone and curling up on the floor.

Phil was furious when he wheedled that out of him but Clint's unapologetic about it. It's worked for them the past couple months and it's a moot point now that Phil is coming home tonight. In a round-about way, while what happened sucked (and is that ever an understatement?), it's been good for them. He's talked more to Nick and Phil in the past two months than ever and things are great.

Phil's not cleared for sex yet, and is barely cleared for walking on a treadmill, but that's okay. All Clint wants tonight is to be able to sleep next to him again. He's missed that, damn it. It's Nick who herds them to bed early after dinner; he sits on the corner of Phil's bed, back against the headboard while Phil uses his thigh as a pillow. Clint doesn't hesitate to shed his clothes, making him the only one naked, and climbs into the other side of the bed and scoots closer, one hand resting on Phil's hip, his body curled toward them, but otherwise not touching. 

When he wakes, Nick isn't there, of course, but Phil is watching him, eyes bright and Clint kisses him softly, eyes just as bright. Then the smell of pancakes wafts into the room and Clint, laughing, goes to find Nick and tackles him with a hug. 

"Behave yourself, boy," Nick grumbles and it's so… Phil tries to think of a word other than cute and settles on endearing, that he crowds close without touching. Nick's not one for physical contact but Clint's whisper-fast hugs and kisses are _rarely_ refused. Nick leans in and kisses Phil with a soft "welcome home" and then Clint is behind him, using the refrigerator door as a wall and letting Phil settle back against him. 

This is twenty times better than the hospital and rehabilitation center. They came to see Phil almost daily, of course, but that was Agent Coulson, Director Fury, and Hawkeye. It wasn't the same thing as home. They eat on barstools because Clint doesn't want any part of a chair between them so Phil has breakfast in Clint's arms, still leaning against him. Fury is one chair over, their knees touching through layers of clothing, and it's perfect.

 

The sitting room has this ridiculously large sofa that Phil initially thought too extravagant to buy but since learned how well the three of them fit on it, once things left his bedroom occasionally. He's not surprised they head there after breakfast but he is surprised to be asked to sit down, alone.

"What's going on?" he asks even though it's quickly obvious. Nick doesn't reply, just tugs on the tee-shirt Clint is wearing as he raises his hands and pulls it off. "I can't," he begins, voice regretful. Even if it was doctor-sanctioned, the meds he's currently on have side effects.

"You going to tell me you haven't missed touching Clint?" Nick asks and Phil sighs. It's such a rhetorical question that he remains silent.

"The hand motions," he begins and Nick chuckles at him.

"Don't worry, got that worked out already." Phil is on the left side of the vee and Nick sits across from him. The square ottoman is pushed into the corner so it's a big, flat area and a naked Clint takes up most of it. His head is on Nick's lap and he spreads his legs, feet digging into the sofa on either side of Phil.

"You look beautiful," Phil says because it's true.

Clint hands him a bottle of lube and mumbles, "Start with one."

They would never ask him to do something he shouldn't, Phil knows this. He can also see how excited Clint and Nick both are with whatever idea they came up with so he does as asked and lubes a single finger, burying it inside of Clint. One becomes two which become three. Clint is getting hard, his own fingers wrapped around his cock. Nick is crooning softly, one hand carding through Clint's hair.

Phil curls and uncurls his fingers and Clint begins to moan. "Keep going, Phil," Nick tells him and then it's four fingers. He pours lube around his knuckles to keep them wet and Clint arches off the sofa, his hand still lazily moving up and down his cock. 

"We missed you," Nick says and Clint nods but doesn't speak, probably because he's sucking on Nick's other hand. "It's not been the same without you," Nick whispers, looking at Phil. "Our boy's been lonely, unable to sleep and visiting you wasn't good enough."

Phil nods, twisting his fingers back and forth.

"More," Nick says and Phil hesitates.

"Clint?"

"More," he mumbles around Nick's fingers. The curve of his neck is stunning and Phil wishes he was close enough to trace the veins. His whole hand is inside up to the joint of his thumb and Clint's legs are trembling. He's writhing on the sofa, the squelch of lube at one end and finger sucking at the other. Phil's always loved that sound and the trust it implies. 

Nick's hand is rubbing faster in Clint's hair, Clint's head bobbing in time with the touches and the fingers in his mouth. "Such a good boy," Nick says and Clint hums in agreement. Then Nick's got a tight grip, pulling backwards so Clint's neck and head are arched over his thigh, adam's apple prominent as he sucks. Clint is jacking himself faster now and Phil hardly has to work to get the pressure that Clint desires. 

He works his thumb inside and Clint shudders, moaning happily and Phil touches the end of his cock, wiping away the pre-come, tasting it. Nick is glancing between the two of them. "Are you going to come for us, baby boy?" Nick asks and Clint goes totally still, trying to stave off orgasm for a little longer. Nick pulls his fingers free from Clint's mouth and scratches them across Clint's hard nipples. 

Phil balls his hand up and twists it. Clint shudders, panting loud while Nick pets him and them he's whining as orgasm overtakes him. Phil unclenches his hand and leaves it there, buried inside Clint, who will tell him when he needs it out. Clint's always loved the intimacy of leaving something inside himself afterwards – especially if it's not a toy – and Phil can give him that much. 

"Please," Clint whispers, turning his head toward Nick's erection and Nick huffs with quiet laughter.

"Okay," he says but Clint doesn't reach. It's too bright in here to hide in the shadows like Nick prefers.

Nick eases himself out after Clint closes his eyes and leans closer to swallow what he can. Phil is taking deep calming breaths that leave him a little light-headed but he doesn't mind. He watches Nick throw his head back and shudder and the Clint is tapping Phil's thigh with his foot and he begins a careful withdraw. 

They stay silent and still for several minutes before Clint languorously spins around and rests his head on Phil's thigh, wrapping his arms around him. Nick doesn't leave, just watches the two of them with a small smile, his fingers stroking Clint's ankle. He wants to break the silence with words; they've used so many of them while Phil was in the hospital but in the end, he doesn't. Nothing else truly needs said.


End file.
